


storms (i still win)

by atsueshi



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsueshi/pseuds/atsueshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of birthday celebrations and chasing after shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	storms (i still win)

He woke up to the smell of rust and liquor.

It was a cold night, but Daiki didn’t know if it was because of the weather or if it was just him. He sat in the corner of the bed, leaning against the wall and trying to stay awake long enough to know if he was dreaming or not. His head hurt like crazy, the sheets were strewn all around him, and pillows were on the floor. There was also a red smear on the blankets. Daiki wondered where that came from.

The first rays of consciousness hit him: it was January. So naturally it would be cold. But a part of him somehow thought it shouldn’t be this cold.

The room was darker than it would have normally been, but the little light that came through the windows fell upon glinting shards of what appeared to be glass. Daiki looked around and tried to remember where the shattered pieces came from and vaguely recalled something about wine — but just as this thought settled in, he felt searing pain from his right hand, which he had unconsciously clenched. Holding it up to the light, he was mildly surprised to see a deep, dark red slash that cut through his palm. The blood had congealed. Looking at the wound closely, he saw how it seemed to have rehealed then opened up again.

He just stared at the hand for a long time and wondered what he was supposed to feel about it. It hurt, it definitely hurt, but Daiki couldn’t help but think there was something else beneath the wound that needed to be felt by him.

His mind worked slowly but in time he found enough energy to put the pieces together. They were all misty, though, and there were holes in his memory that he couldn’t quite fill in.

He had been drinking to his death.

He arrived half past midnight, whether today or yesterday he couldn’t really remember.

He cut his hand on some sort of glass shard, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t from a drinking glass or a bottle…

And perhaps the most curious recollection: he was alone, but somehow he thought he shouldn’t be. He wondered why that was so, but then his head gave a nasty throb and immediately all thoughts ceased.

“I’m tired,” Daiki mumbled as he rubbed a hand on his temple. He looked at the clock on the bedstand: 00:15. Midnight… He didn’t arrive today then. He looked away, but a play of the light directed his attention to a spot just right next to the alarm clock, where something glimmered slightly. He crawled closer to the bedstand, body too heavy to do anything more, and looked at the shiny thing on it.

At first he thought it was the foil. It was full of pills, round ones and ovals and tablets, and somehow he knew they were a motley of prescription and illegal drugs. He also knew he had been taking them. He clawed at his brain, trying to figure out when and why he took them, but then another small glint caught his attention—a ring. A ring too small for his hand, a plain silver band that shone so quietly in the darkness of his room. Daiki’s throat closed at the sight of the small round band. A feeling of dread settled in, and when he picked it up, he saw the words engraved on the inside:  _Remember December._

Reading the words felt like being doused in ice-cold water, and suddenly Daiki was awake.

The clock on his bedstand showed the date. January 31.

Just like that, a fresh wave of pain washed through Daiki, much greater than the pain from his hand or his head. This pain tore through him from the inside and chewed up all his senses until he found himself curled up in bed, hugging his knees and clenching his fists so tightly that the wound bled afresh and stained the sheets. He held the ring in his right hand and stared at the windows, trying to breathe through the crushing weight in his chest that threatened to break his ribcage. Outside, a sudden torrent of rain fell so hard that the cold he felt multiplied itself tenfold, that as rain pounded mercilessly against his windows, he felt as if he was frozen in a huge block of ice.

He remembered everything so clearly, so vividly, every detail recalled so sharply—

—A head of light blue hair stained by the same dark red that ruined his sheets, light blue eyes growing darker by the moment…

_“Aomine-kun…”_

The voice rang through his head, louder than the thunder that rumbled outside.

_“Aomine-kun, don’t be sad.”_

Daiki shut his eyes tightly as the memory buried itself deeper into his consciousness, images of the same boy flooding into his head. He shivered and held on tighter to the ring in his still-bleeding hand, while the other raked through his hair and pulled hard, as if by doing so he could rip out the face and the name and the voice and the nightmare that played over and over in his head—

_“I’m sorry, I- I don’t think we can celebrate my birthday together…”_

_“Like hell I’ll let that happen— Tetsu, listen to me, it’ll be fine, the ambulance is on its way, look at me! Tetsuya! Look at me! We’ll celebrate your birthday together, I promise—”_

_“Aomine-kun, don’t make promises you can’t keep… Please don’t be sad… I don’t- don’t like seeing… Seeing you sad—”_

_“TETSU! Satsuki where is the goddamn ambulance? Tetsu, stay with me, please, stay with me, you’ll be okay—”_

_“—Daiki…”_

The way Tetsu whispered his name sounded so real that Daiki opened his eyes and looked around wildly, hoping for a moment that it was all a dream or a horrible illusion from all the drugs, but it wasn’t.

Daiki fought back the urge to scream, but he couldn’t—he didn’t want to scream and yet he wanted to but he couldn’t because he felt drained of energy. He didn’t want to do something that reminds him, but he felt the need to do anything—

And yet despite his hollowed feeling, in a sudden rush of power, Daiki stood up and grabbed his car keys, then dashed out of the complex, ran into his car, and drove away.

He had to get away. Far away, far enough, that maybe he wouldn’t feel so broken.

_“Daiki, remember…okay?”_

He turned the radio up so loudly, but his thoughts still rang louder than anything else.

_“Tetsu, no, don’t say things like that, damn it, I told you, you’ll be okay, you’ll be fine, and stop talking like you’re gonna die—”_

_“—We all will, Aomine-kun. I just die earlier. So you can’t keep your promise. It seems this time I will beat you.“_

“It’s gonna be a terrible storm tonight, friends,” Daiki heard through the radio, “so let’s all be careful and make sure we’re all in the safety of our homes, and cuddle up. Today is January 31—”

Daiki noticed how his vision suddenly clouded, and then felt the hot tears falling. He blinked rapidly, clearing his eyes, and revved up the engine even more. The speedometer inched closer to two hundred.

_“I don’t think we can celebrate my birthday together…”_

Lightning flashed, winds sent trees falling in a trice, thunder roared…

Daiki then remembered how he cut his hand—it was when he broke the windshield of Tetsu’s car, pulling at the glass so he could drag Tetsu out.

Daiki saw Tetsu clearly—after that, he did not quite see or hear or feel or think anything else.

He did not see the truck that came his way, did not see the headlights through the flurry of rain and tears, did not hear the tires screeching, did not see his life flash before his eyes as the car slipped under the eighteen-wheeler, and did not feel any more pain as his body flew so far away and landed on concrete with a sickening thud—

_I told you we’ll celebrate your birthday together, Tetsu. So I still win._


End file.
